Together in the End
by Avarwen
Summary: SPOILERS! After attempting a human transmutation, years of struggles and battles and very lifethreatening situations... of dying twice and attempting to do so a third time to bring his brother back... it was a damn disease that finally brought down the le


SPOILERS! For the movie and the series. Just thought I'd let you know ahead of time.

Summary: That was probably one of the cruellest ironies of all.

After attempting a human transmutation, years of struggles and battles and _very _life-threatening situations... of dying twice and attempting to do so a third time to bring his brother back... it was a damn _disease _that finally brought down the legendary Fullmetal Alchemist.

A/N: Don't ask me what this came from.

All I know is that I heard a _rumour _(nothing solid, mind you) that the disease Alphons Heiderich had in the movie was Tuberculosis, and, considering that Tuberculosis _can_ be contagious-- especially with how much Alphons coughs-- for some reason I wanted to write something about Ed catching it. This is the result. Seriously depressing, and SPOILERS.

Anyway, I edited it a bit last night, so now it's a bit better... I think... Well, it's more coherent anyway...

**Warning**: **Spoilers** for random places throughout the series, a homunculus identity (well, at least if you know how to kill homunculi, if you don't then... well, you still might be able to figure it out... doubtful, but you might be able to), and lot's of the movie, **Angst**, **Character Death**, **Language**, and lots of other stuff... I can't think of anything else, but there might be more. I think that's all the main stuff though.

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist, Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric, Alphons Heiderich, Noah, Or any of the other Fullmetal Alchemist characters/places. I only wish I did.

Believe me, if I did own it, the series would probably only be half as good.

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!**Crank up the angst **!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Together in the End 

Al wasn't sure what he had expected to happen.

They were travelling in search of a deadly weapon across a country that was falling apart at the seams with a group of outcasts.

And, despite all the times they had eluded or cheated death, and the way Ed would act a good deal of the time, they weren't immortal.

They had both died at least twice before.

Him at the gate, and then later to bring Ed back to life...

And Ed had been killed while fighting Envy, and, apparently, died once in this world almost immediately before that, while trapped inside his doppelganger's body. Or so he said-- Ed didn't talk like to talk about it, and so Al didn't ask. Actually had Ed almost died three times, but, for whatever reason, the gate had decided to simply separate them. Which was just as bad.

Maybe not at first, because at first he had no idea what had happened. But later... when he couldn't find his brother... when he didn't know what had happened to him... it was worse than if Ed had simply died.

Or so he had believed.

But now, standing over the small slate of grey that had Edward's name etched deeply into it, knowing that there was no possible chance Ed was ever going to return to him alive... well, he just wasn't so sure he had been right.

Alphonse exhaled sharply-- the noise shaky and wretched against the silence surrounding him, while secretly cursing the way the rest of the world seemed so damn _peaceful; _At least from out here it did. In the cities the world was darker and less friendly. But here, everything just seemed like it was meant to be-- bright sky dappled in light clouds that harboured absolutely no threat of rain, both of which had been painted in a symphony of oranges and yellows and crimsons by the rays of the setting sun... A light breeze rising up now and again to tease the leaves that clung to the branches of the nearby trees, and try and coax one last melody out of the birds before they went to sleep...

It was perfect.

And it wasn't right.

'_It was like this at mom's funeral, too.' _He mused, silently.

It was funny, really, because back when he was in armour the sky had mocked him with it's tears when he could shed none... and now, when it should have been drowning the whole world with grief, it chose to taunt him with it's beauty.

Al gave a weak chuckle that had absolutely no mirth in it at the thought, and wiped distractedly at his eyes, displeased when the action did nothing to quell the tears that were rising there in a flood to drown his vision in despair.

Cruel Irony. That's what it was.

The whole damn thing, from start to finish!

Failing to bring their mother back and, instead, creating a monster wearing her skin that was out to kill them; Ed gaining the ability to transmute without a circle at the cost of his arm (which would have completely obliterated the whole purpose of that knowledge if it weren't for automail); Loathing the military with every fibre of their being, only to be forced to serve it to get what they want; Learning how to get Al his body back with the Philosopher's stone, only to find out that it would cost _thousands _of lives in exchange; Al _becoming _said Philosopher's stone later on; Ed _finally _succeeding in getting him his body back, only to be ripped away into this world and have Al lose all his memories of what had happened; Them reunited after all that time on the wrong side of the gate, where, after only a few months together, Ed was torn away from him _again_.

By a _disease _no less.

That was probably one of the cruellest ironies of all.

After attempting a human transmutation, years of struggles and battles and _very _life-threatening situations... of dying twice and attempting to do so a third time to bring his brother back... it was a damn _disease _that finally brought down the legendary Fullmetal Alchemist.

_Tuberculosis. _

That's what the doctor had called it.

In other words some kind of lung infection that, at that time, with their resources, had been completely untreatable. Or maybe it was untreatable anyway, Al didn't know. Not that he didn't try to find out-- he did-- but when you're travelling around with a bunch of gypsies and nomads, people tend to be less than friendly when speaking with you.

He doubted it would have made a difference anyway.

Ed had hid the disease from him fairly well-- blaming his fevers and nightsweats on bad dreams, his sudden lack of interest in food on simply being too busy tracking down the bomb, and his fatigue on the fact that, because of his nightmares, he wasn't getting any sleep at night. And Al, fool that he was, had bought it.

At the time it seemed reasonable.

Looking back now, though, he should have seen it.

Ed may have been busy, but, as far as Al knew, he had _never _been so busy that he skipped a meal before. And even if he was having nightmares, why would he have admitted that to Alphonse? Hell, he used to have them when they were travelling together sometimes, but he always refused to talk about them later. Besides, how could _anyone_ who spent that much time in the sun be so unbelievably pale? Except, maybe, for a vampire, but according to myth vampires turned to ash in the sun. Or maybe that was werewolves. Alphonse didn't know-- he, like Ed, found most of this world's legends to be absolutely ridiculous, and so paid very little attention whenever one of them was brought about.

But Al had failed to see what was right in front of his face, until it came along and smacked him in the form of Ed collapsing in the middle of the road, body hunched over, and shoulders heaving as he clutched his chest and coughed-- large droplets of blood fleeing his lips to splatter against the ground.

And even then, when he had had to be lifted into the cart and driven into town, Ed had still tried to insist he was fine... tried to convince Al not to worry.

That had been one of the longest nights of Al's life. And that was saying something.

When the doctor had told him what was wrong, and that Ed was so far gone in the disease it would be impossible to treat him, Al had been unable to bear it.

He had stormed into his brother's room, unconcerned (or at least pretending to be) with his weak and fragile state, and instantly begun ranting at him about being careless, and stupid, and arrogant, and how could he not _tell_ him?

And Ed had endured it all without a complaint, waiting silently until Al's misplaced fury had been worn down and then said the six words that Al hated to hear.

"_I didn't want you to worry."_

That, of course, had set Al off on a whole new tirade, though this one possessed only half the anger of the original and was quickly losing it in the face of Ed's calm, not-quite apologetic stare. The kind of stare that breaks through all your defences and leaves nothing left but whatever emotion it is your actually feeling... whatever you're trying to protect with a façade of rage.

In Al's case, absolute misery.

And when Ed weakly lifted his hand and beckoned to him, Al couldn't have resisted if he'd wanted to-- willingly falling into his brother's embrace and letting Ed hold him and murmur gently to him as he sobbed and clung to his shirt like a life line. And really, it was. Maybe not the shirt itself, but his brother... because, without Ed, he had nothing.

He would be alone.

Sure, Noah would still be around, and the other's they travelled with, but they didn't count.

They were just acquaintances. _Friends_, maybe, if you stretched it. Nothing more.

But Ed was his _brother_. They lived, breathed, and, literally, _died_ for each other. And he would be incomplete without Ed, he knew.

Even then he had known.

And he had been right.

Because, later, when the disease had finally taken over his brother, Al was left alone, like he thought he would be. And he was left incomplete, like he _knew _he would be.

The next few months had been hell.

Ed's condition had only gotten worse, and Al was nearly hysteric in his desperate efforts to make life easier for his brother-- fussing over him like there was no tomorrow and refusing to let him out of sight for even an instant, until Ed, who had been uncharacteristically patient with him for the most part, finally snapped-- telling him that, if he was going to freak out over every little bought of coughing or missed meal, then he was just going to start hiding it from him again.

That had effectively cut Alphonse's mania short.

Ed had apologized later, saying that he just didn't like the way Al was acting.

He, evidently, knew he didn't have a lot of time left, and he didn't want to spend it with Al worrying over him all the time.

"_Alphons was the same way." _Ed had told him. "_He always said it was just a little cold. Never wanted me to worry. But I knew there was something wrong. I still played along for his sake, though."_

Al wasn't sure how to respond to that, and was silent for the longest time, watching as Ed's eyes retained a faraway look-- clearly reminiscing over his friend.

Finally, he had found himself asking "_Why_?" if for no other reason than to break the silence.

Ed had looked at him then, his expression soft with some emotion Al couldn't name, and said "_Because. It's what he wanted."_

It had only occurred to Al later, when Ed was coughing up blood nearly every day and was clearly coming close to the edge, that _Alphons _was probably the person Ed had contracted the disease from in the first place.

And the look in Ed's eye when he had brought it up clearly told him that Ed thought so too, though the elder Elric refused to say so.

"_It doesn't matter where I got it. The point is, it's here. And, even if we _**can **_trace it back to the source, that isn't going to help me." _Ed had told him, before quickly initiating a subject change by rejecting the bit of air he had just inhaled and painting yet another handkerchief with blood.

Three months after the original diagnosis-- eight months since Alphonse had come to this world-- Ed died.

It was a long and painful process-- the kind of thing people _wish _they don't experience-- with Ed trapped in a bed, heaving and coughing and all but hacking his lungs up all over the place, and Alphonse sitting anxiously beside him, holding his hand and watching him breathe long into the night... making sure he didn't stop...

Unfortunately, he failed in that too, and by noon the next day Ed's body was already rigid and cold and had abandoned what little colour it had left.

That didn't stop Alphonse from sitting there, hand still clasped tightly around the glacial one he had been holding for hours on end, staring blurrily up at his brother's face, waiting for him to blink... to turn and face him and make some satire comment about him being worrywart, and then loudly complain about how uncomfortable the bed was.

He barely noticed when Noah and the doctor came in and approached the bed, until an arm was suddenly obstructing his view-- checking his brother's pulse-- before two fingers slid up and gently pressed his brother's eyes closed.

"_I'm sorry." _The doctor had said.

Alphonse hadn't heard him.

He had been unable to do anything but stare, numbly, up at his brother's face, some part of him still somehow waiting for one of Ed's infamous outbursts.

He didn't even know he was crying until Noah was wiping the tears away.

Everyone had been kind and considerate enough to him, though the doctor had refused to let him stay locked away with his brother's... corpse... for any longer than another hour; Insisting that he needed to get the body out of there before it started to decompose, and did they have any money for a funeral?

The answer? Not really.

Al had a bit of money stashed away, and he knew that Ed did to, but it shouldn't have been enough to pay for a coffin and a proper burial.

Somehow they pulled through, though.

But maybe that's because they didn't _have_ a proper burial.

First of all, there was no priest.

No priest would have anything to do with people like them. And besides, Ed would probably have had a conniption if one had.

"_I spend my whole life as an atheist, and you want me to believe in God _**now**?!" He could practically hear his brother demanding. "_What good would that do me anyway? Even if there _**is **_a God, I'm not so sure I wanna spend eternity with him, not after he was dumb enough to make something like the _**gate **_for all us idiots to fuck with. Besides, after all we've done, I'm sure my soul's going straight to hell." _

Al wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the idea.

So there was no priest.

There also happened to be no graveyard.

After their previous experiences with graveyards-- what with attending first the Rockbell's funeral, and then their own mother's, and then Ed having to go back and dig up part of their mother to kill Sloth-- Al didn't think Ed would want his body to spend it's time decomposing in one.

Instead he had chosen a quiet spot-- on a peaceful hill far away enough from town that people were unlikely to disturb it, but still close enough to overlook the majority of what was going on down there.

The best part was, there were no other graves here.

A lone tree and the grass spilling out around them were the only company Ed would have here. A good thing too, because Ed never really was much of a people person.

The funeral had been small-- just him, Noah, the doctor for whatever reason, and the small group they had been travelling with.

It was over almost before it had begun, the other's not knowing enough about Ed to say anything, and Al simply being far too upset to try.

Perhaps Noah could have spoken up, but she respectively kept her silence. Al was grateful. He didn't really want to hear anything about how great his brother was and how he didn't deserve to die like that. True though it may be, those were obvious things and they shouldn't need to be said. Besides, there were no mere words that could do Ed's life justice.

The other's had dissipated quickly enough, leaving Al alone with his brother. To say goodbye. Or at least, that's what he knew they believed.

He, however, wasn't so certain...

'Al?' Noah's voice called tentatively from behind him, one of her hands resting uneasily on the rough bark of the tree position at his back, and Al started a bit, before turning to look at her, not bothering trying to be inconspicuous as he wiped at his eyes with his sleeve.

Noah stared at him a moment, as if considering whether or not she should just leave him alone again, before seeming to decide against it. 'Are you sure you don't want to come with us? Are you sure you want to stay?' She asked softly.

Al could see she already knew the answer to that question, but he still nodded his head anyway.

'Yeah, I'm sure.' He said softly, his voice cracking with his tears. 'My place is at brother's side.'

He heard her approaching him, and turned and walked carefully down to meet her, smiling a little when she tentatively reached toward him, and allowing her to pull him into a gentle embrace. He was not surprised when he heard the small gasp flee her lips at the contact, nor did he fight to hold onto her when she attempted to pull back and look at him, her dark chocolate eyes wide; He knew what she had seen.

'Alphonse--' She began, but Al held up a hand to silence her.

'Don't.' He said softly, a small smile cracking his lips as he shook his head. 'You can't change my mind.' He brought his gaze up to meet her own. 'My place is at brother's side.' He repeated, then turned and moved back to face Ed's grave. 'Tell the other's not to wait for me.' He said, not certain if she heard or not.

He didn't look back to see if she had left-- trusting in her ability to understand that there was _no turning back_. He had made up his mind. And, despite common belief, Ed wasn't the only or the most stubborn one in their family.

Moving so he was kneeling on Ed's grave, Alphonse gingerly reached into the pocket of his coat and drew out the small blade he had concealed there, watching it reflect crimson in the fading sunlight.

Carefully opening the blade, Alphonse turned to rest his back against his brother's tombstone, before reaching up to his arm-- carefully unsheathing it from the cloth of his sleeve-- and positioning the sharp edge over his wrist.

The feel of cold steel against his skin was familiar and strangely comforting, and he took a moment to savour it. Perhaps another irony-- it had taken them nearly five years to get him _out _of his steel shell and able to feel again, and now he was going to end his life with more of the same steel.

Smiling a little crookedly and completely without humour at that, Alphonse carefully dug the very tip of the knife into his flesh-- watching the small bead of blood well and then leak away from the wound-- before turning his eyes away and slashing the knife down.

For a moment pain eclipsed everything, and Alphonse could not contain his small shriek at the unexpectedness of it, his breathing haggard as his body shook from the sudden attack.

Then, slowly it began to drift away-- slipping away from him among rivers of blood that coated his flesh and clothes, and replaced with a strange numbing sort of sensation. Peaceful.

Alphonse wasn't sure how long this would take, and so he made himself "comfortable;" Leaning more securely back against the tombstone and rolling his head at an awkward angle on his shoulders so that he could look down and see Ed's name carved behind him. He blinked hazily at it a moment, pleased when his eyes refused to focus properly.

'Y'know Ed,' he said slowly, carefully, barely above a whisper as his arm began to throb a little from the amount of blood draining free from it. 'You promised you wouldn't do this. You promised you wouldn't leave me.' A strange buzzing filled began in his ears, which he adamantly ignored. '"We're all we've got," remember? but you _still _left me. Twice.' His vision swam, and gave his head a small shake to try and fix it, which in turn made his head spin. He sighed softly and gave up, letting his eyes drift down to half-mast instead so that he didn't have to focus on the world.

'I can't really blame you, though. Because you would probably _kill_ me if you knew what I was doing right now.' He frowned a little as his mind suddenly seemed to misplace all the signals it was supposed to be sending to his arms and legs, making the joints refuse to respond to him. 'I don't care if you would get angry, though, brother.' He murmured, pressing his cheek against cool stone. 'Because I made a promise, too.' His hips and torso were quickly following the detachment process, making it incredibly hard to breathe, and he licked his lips, trying to fight against the sudden heavy weightlessness (a contradiction in and of itself) that was shrouding his mind-- if only so he could finish his little "death-bed speech" to his brother.

He licked his lips, his tongue heavy and moving too-slowly to be normal, halting the effort halfway through. 'I promised that I would follow you wherever you went.'

Alphonse tilted his head again, allowing his chin to loll down against his chest, trying hard to focus on the words his mouth didn't want to say. 'Well, brother, I'm doing just that. And I don't care what you say... this time, I'm not being left... behind.'

Al couldn't tell if the last part of his farewell ramble had come out or not, because at that moment his mind decided to shut down contact completely with his body... and everything else in the world for that matter.

His eyes, which had resiliently remained open up until this moment, now finally slid closed-- hiding the dilated pupils and glazed irises from sight as his body slumped and then went entirely limp, the last traces of life slipping away from his grasp on the blood sluggishly draining free out of his arm.

From behind the tree, Noah did her best to hide her tears.

She did not move from her spot for long moments after Alphonse had already passed, wanting to be certain he was really gone... It wasn't right for her to have intruded on his private moment with his brother, but, for some reason, when she had seen what he was going to do in his mind, she had been unable to leave. Even when she knew she would be unable to stop it.

She didn't go up to look at Alphonse when he was done, but rather headed back into town... preparing to make the arrangements for yet another funeral. Hopefully the fact that they would be sharing a tombstone might help lessen the expenses of it.

Alphonse's funeral was even smaller than Edward's-- with no doctor, or brother there to mourn their loss-- and it was over just as quickly.

Nobody knew Alphonse well enough to say anything, and none of them were quite willing to speak up about their suddenly diseased comrades anyway.

Instead, they simply stood in silence, watching as a second coffin was lowered in next to Edward's, and a new headstone was placed before the grave at Noah's request, the letters carved in the stone reflecting crimson in the fading light from the sun.

_Edward and Alphonse Elric._

_Devoted Brothers._

_? - 1924? - 1924 _

_Together in the end._

Owari

A/N: Well, Alphonse's death got dragged out a bit too long, I think, but I couldn't figure out another way to write it, so hopefully you can all just bear with me on that.

Anyway, don't be afraid to review and let me know what you think!


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